


Because I Love You

by NowThatWereDone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Library AU, Neighbor au, One Shot Collection, Reapers, Starbucks, Teen Wolf AU, babysitting au, blind date au, derek's baby, different warnings for different chapters, maybe two shot, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatWereDone/pseuds/NowThatWereDone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A part of her can still feel lips pressing against her forehead, tears hitting her skin. And she knows that, no matter what happens, no matter who she is, or what life she’ll be in. Allison Argent will always love Scott McCall."/ Or, a collection of different versions of Allison and Scott, of their relationship, and of their lives told through one shots. AU requests welcome, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. I read an amazing story like this, except in the Avengers fandom (see A Hundred Worlds by InitialA-- Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff) and I just HAD to do one for a couple. And right now, my heart is set on Scott and Allison, and this ship will be kept alive through this fic and many others.

It could’ve been cold outside. Or maybe, Scott was actually burning up in the jacket he wore. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. The only temperature he can note is Allison’s, and it’s dropping quickly. The scarier part is that she isn’t shivering.

 _She doesn’t feel it_.

Doesn’t feel anything.

Just lies back, a serene look on her face giving her an angelic glow, as she stares up at Scott, assurance and devotion lighting her eyes. He notes, though, that even this light is fading and soon she won’t be able to look at him at all. His hold around her tightens, and he’s sure that he’s murmuring some sort of intelligible mess, because Allison soon speaks up, gently:

“It’s okay,” she says, “it’s _okay_.” It’s not, though. It’s not okay. “I’m in the arms of my first love.” No. “The first person I’ve ever loved. The person I’ll always love.” _No_. Her eyes soften at the denial in Scott’s face, at the horrified acceptance that’s molding his face into a pained expression. Her shaking hand moves up just enough so she can touch his face one last time, over his cheek, his lips, his crooked jaw…

She is going to miss him, more than pretty much anyone else. Only her father and Lydia can make her feel anymore tortured about leaving. Allison’s hand stops moving along Scott’s face and she meets his gaze as much as she can as the feeling starts fading from her body.

“I love you,” and she means it. She means it with all of her might, all of her body, all of her strength. “Scott… Scott McCall.” He’s begging her not to leave, but his voice is getting muffled—to Scott out of agony, to Allison out of numbness. And it’s then she remembers; _the arrow._ Allison stiffens in Scott’s arm, a stronger, more desperate alertness filling her body.

“You have to tell my dad,” she begs, “You have to, you have to tell him…” And it’s the strangest feeling, dying. Like, she can feel her heart stopping, and her awareness fading like she’s going to sleep. Only she’s not, she’s going away, somewhere bright, somewhere far, and if she focuses hard enough, she can hear her mother calling her name…

She doesn’t leave as soon as he thinks.

A part of her can still feel lips pressing against her forehead, tears hitting her skin. And she knows that, no matter what happens, no matter who she is, or what life she’ll be in.

Allison Argent will always love Scott McCall.

(And he will always love her, too.)


	2. Venti Caramel Macchiato Extra-Whip-Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Starbucks messes up an order, but it might not be a bad thing.

Allison Argent cared very little about coffee. She hardly appreciated the somewhat acrid taste nor what it did to her teeth (and her teeth were very important to her considering it was about 65% of why she’d won Miss McSmiley at her high school’s pageant the year prior). So maybe Allison was a little more lenient whenever her order of coffee was wrong. After all, she only drank it to have some form of energy as she powered through her freshman year of college.

Her best friend, Lydia, was a whole other story entirely.

She’d been fuming for hours – _literal hours-_ as the two went about their day. She glared at those who dared brush against her as the two went (jogged/ran/sprinted) to class. She rolled her eyes at whoever spoke to her. The shorter girl had pretty much decided that the whole world needed to suffer along with her. All for a cup of coffee.

“You don’t understand,” Lydia tried to explain to the indifferent Allison. “The venti caramel macchiato-extra-whip-cream got my through my break up with Jackson. The venti caramel macchiato-extra-whip-cream helped me through weeks upon weeks of tireless exams. The venti caramel macchiato-extra-whip-cream has been with me through every up and down since ninth grade and I’ll be _damned_ if I can’t have it right now!”

Maybe it wasn’t the drink that was freaking Lydia out. After all, Allison knew that she and her current boyfriend, Jordan Parrish (an _older guy_ , said in the same eyebrow raising tone Lydia frequently used) were hitting another rough patch. A bad one. So perhaps the comfort of the one thing that had never let her down (aside from Allison of course) was what Lydia needed to stay sane. The strawberry blonde did love the feeling of security.

“I’m sorry, Lydia,” Allison mused, “but I don’t think we can get it without running late to class. I mean, I know _you’ll_ be fine with your 170 IQ, but I’m actually struggling in Calculus.” Lydia curled her lip a little, a tell of sorts.

“Fine,” Lydia murmured. “I’ll let it go. _For now_.” And the two went to class.

**

Allison and Lydia had sat in the same spots since the second week of college; right in the center. Not too far back as to be missed by the professor but not too close to seem overly eager. That and the windows shone on them and kept Allison warm even in the near arctic temperatures of their learning hall.

That day, however, something—or rather someone—was sitting in their chairs. Or Lydia’s chair. Lydia’s jaw visibly tightened as she beheld the new development with growing contempt and impatience.

“Lydia,” Allison tried warning but the young woman was already striding to their spots, her high heels leaving loud clicking sounds on the floor. Groaning, Allison followed after her.

“Sweetheart, you’re in my chair.” He turned, looking up at the approaching females with a curious eye. Curious brown eyes, eyes that were kind of really warm and comforting, if Allison were to be completely honest.

“I know, I’m sorry.” The kid started to stand. Allison was a little surprised that she had to look up to him a little bit. She was typically taller than a lot of guys. “I just, um…” He glanced at Allison before holding out a hand. A hand wrapped around a Starbucks coffee cup. Allison and Lydia shared a look.

“What is that?” Lydia asked. Was that hope in her voice? Allison wasn’t sure.

“It’s a Caramel Macchiato. Venti.” Lydia’s eyes widened to astronomical proportions. “We overhead you guys talking about it this morning. Figured we could get it for you. You know, do a fellow freshman a solid.” Despite his initial behavior, the guy was quite confident. At least, when he spoke to Lydia. Whenever he passed a furtive look Allison’s way it appeared he shrank back, just a little. Weird.

“Is there extra whip cream in here?” The boy bobbed his head.

“Yeah. We kinda heard you say that part the loudest, actually. And the most frequently, too. My friend, Stiles practically demanded they put it in there.” Stiles?

Lydia didn’t seem to notice the mention of another, instead beaming at the boy before throwing her arms around him with vigor.

“You are literally the best person ever!” And she took the drink and plopped into her chair, now vacant. Allison watched the boy curiously. He was still there, shifting his weight as he looked to his shoes. Now that Lydia was seated, the nerves were back with full force.

“What’s your name?” Allison couldn’t help but ask.

“Scott. Uh, Scott McCall.” He paused to look up at her. “You’re Allison.” He said her name like a caress, his voice a sea of… _something_. It made Allison smile.

“Yeah. I’m Allison.” Scott nodded his head slowly.

“That’s… cool.” Another moment of silence passed.

“It was nice what you did for Lydia,” Allison said, breaking the silence. Scott smiled a little, his lips pressed together as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, you know. My friend, he wanted to do something for Lydia. He likes her.” Scott stiffened, realizing what he’d just let slip. A glance at Lydia proved the girl was too busy chugging her macchiato to notice. “Oh. Well… Stiles wanted to give her the drink originally, but he got cold feet so I had to step in.”

“You do a whole bunch of favors for people don’t you?” Allison said. She was vaguely aware that the class was beginning to fill up. Soon, it was be time to start. It was on instinct she started turning away as Scott laughed awkwardly, sliding her book bag to the ground and pulling her chair out.

She sat, but made sure to turn back to Scott with a warm grin.

“It was nice to meet you, Scott,” she said sincerely. Scott nodded, sensing it was time for him to leave.

“Yeah,” he said, “you, too.” And he turned on his heels and marched to the back of the room. She followed him with her eyes, tracing him to where he sat. Hm. She’d never noticed him back there. A gangly boy with buzzed hair waved his arms frantically and pointed Allison’s way. She hadn’t the time to turn back around before Scott looked over at her again.

It was weird, when their eyes met. A warm flutter hit her chest when Allison saw Scott’s eyes light up at the sight of her. He raised his hand in an awkward wave. Allison laughed a little and waved back before wheeling around in her chair to meet Lydia and her Cheshire Cat grin.

“…What?” Allison dared to ask.

“He likes you.” _What_?

“I’m pretty sure he just bought _you_ coffee.”

“No,” Lydia said with a shake of her head, “he bought the coffee for me, but he was only looking at _you_.” Allison, who didn’t really want to think about boys with a calculus test in a few days, brushed off her friend’s meddling and focused in as the professor started the lecture.

Every once in a while her mind did wander to Scott McCall, and she decided that she would most definitely find him after the lesson so they could get a coffee on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and send au requests in!! And tell me what you think! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. But I've kinda gotten used to the workload and can squeeze in update time for one shot stories like this :3


	3. Reap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Scott is a grim reaper  
> and Allison is the girl he reaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make it different, but this might've just turned into crap, lol, I apologize.

It’s a cold day, you know. That’s when these things always happen.

Scott rubs his hands together in an absentminded way as he gazes up at the tall building, at the figure standing on the edge. Wryly, he wonders why this suicide jumper didn’t pick a warmer day to do this, because he really can’t feel his freaking toes. And that’s really saying something considering the fact that he’s already dead himself.

**

Scott’s house is a small thing, without any windows or doors or furnishings. That’s because he lives in a coffin. It’s a pretty nice coffin, though, with, like, padding and a built in television thing (he thinks it’s really an ipad but it gets great service and Netflix, so he’s pretty content when he has to go down there). Usually, though, Scott doesn’t go home. He just wanders the earth, looking for people whose souls he can reap.

**

He’s been at this “reaping” thing for about a year now, ever since he died. He doesn’t really remember how. The Big Guy Upstairs told him he’d need to forget his passed life in order to be able to fulfill his job. He’d agreed to it, obviously, because the first time he looked in the mirror he had no idea who the guy looking back at him was.

“That’s you,” his mentor, a man named Derek with harsh cheekbones and a beard Scott only wishes he could grow, had told him and Scott was a little curious about why the heck his jaw was bent like that (though after a few days, he’d grown a little pride in the distinction).

**

He doesn’t usually remember the jobs he does. Not because his mind is wiped, like before, but because it isn’t as interesting as you’d think. Most of the jobs he gets are peaceful ones, where he takes the souls of elderlies who pass in their sleep. But Scott wants to do the thrilling jobs, jobs in the warzones and car crashes and assassinations and maulings.

Derek takes jobs like these, and tells Scott about them over a beer (they can actually exist in the human plane for short periods of time, if they want to).

“I want to do it,” Scott says one day, “I want to go with you and reap.” But Derek’s face is grave, no more mirth in his usually calm gaze. Scott doesn’t know what he said wrong.

“You don’t want to see the things I have,” Derek says, his words made of ice.

“But you make it _sound--_ ”

“It’s not always like that, Scott,” Derek snaps. “It’s only fun for a little while—our emotions aren’t as heightened as humans are, but they are still there. After that brief thrill of adventure, you realize that the world is a sick and twisted place, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Scott opens his mouth. Closes it. “We’re nature’s spectators, Scott,” Derek finally sighs. “We just get to watch as the world burns.”

**

Scott hears about an upcoming job; a stabbing. He’s a little curious. It’s not warlike, and it’s only one girl who needs reaping. Surely it won’t leave Scott with any trauma as Derek insists.

Derek’s probably being overdramatic anyway.

**

Scott is a little excited for it, when the time comes. He’s already at the scene, arms crossed as he watched the two figures getting closer. From where he is, he shouldn’t be able to see them, but, of course, he can. His eyes make out a petite redhead dressed in a rather appealing set of clothing and…

 _Her_.

For the first time in a long time, Scott’s breath is taken away.

By her.

She’s tall, willowy, with flowing hair and skin that looks like alabaster. He can’t explain what it is, or why he feels so drawn to this girl, but the way she smiles, the way her dimples flash and her brown eyes shine…

He can’t explain it. It’s almost like he can feel his dead heart beating again…

And then she gets stabbed.

**

“ _Allison!_ ” The scream is a lot louder than Scott anticipates. It’s so loud, he can feel it in his very being. He can feel it from the tips of his toes to the top of his hair, and he isn’t one hundred percent sure that this girl with the light red hair is purely human (he’s known a number of women with piercing cries, who bring him to places where people die, but he doubts this seventeen year old girl can be a _banshee, right?_ ).

Still, the scream doesn’t keep Scott from jumping into action. In a flash he’s kneeling beside the pair of girls, watching as the redhead catches her friend.

“Allison,” the girl sobs, “Allison, please wake up.” Scott doesn’t like seeing someone wracked with such sorrow. Again, he swears he feels his heart beat (though he technically doesn’t have one). A part of him wants to go after the stupid mugger who dared stab such an innocent girl, but he knows that’s not his job.

With gritted teeth he places a hand on Allison’s chest, feels her life draining from her body. It’s almost time.

The other girl seems to hesitate, her eyes blinking rapidly. Maybe going into shock. Scott doesn’t really stop to check, instead pulling away with the white, spirit of the dying girl. Of Allison.

“No.” At first, he thinks it’s a denial, but when he looks back to the short girl, he sees that she’s looking up. But that’s impossible. He doesn’t want to believe that her eyes, streaming with tears and so locked on him, could make out his ghostly form.

He doesn’t want to believe that the “ _please don’t,”_ was meant for him.

So he ignores her, holding tightly onto the soul of the brunette as he begins to walk away. The brunette’s soul is even more haunting than the other one. She sees him—of course she does, she’s dead now—and blinks and tilts her head.

“Scott?” she whispers. She says his name like she knows him, says it like she hasn’t seen him in years. But he doesn’t remember her. Can’t. He grimaces.

“How do you know my name?” And her eyes are sad and broken and he wonders if he knew her in another world. Maybe there’s a downside to having his memories wiped when he was chosen to do this.

 But he guides her to the other side, ignores the sad gazes she gives him. And then she looks at him, really looks at him.

“Scott,” she whispers. Reaches forward to touch his face. And when she does, Scott can just make it out:

The sunshine, her smile, the way her hand feels in his…

But when he opens his eyes, she’s gone, already making the journey to where those who pass on go. His job is done, he realizes.

For the first time, Scott regrets it.


	4. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Allison is new to Beacon Hills  
> and Scott is her neighbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh... I need au requests please please please.

She wasn’t sure what it was about him. Allison Argent just really liked the way that he walked. He had a sort of swagger she couldn’t explain; his chin was raised in a confident fashion and his back always remained erect. And yet, arrogance didn’t fall from him, only a certain level of bravado that kept her eyes following every step he took…

He was her next door neighbor. She saw a lot of him, as he often did his work outs on his front yard. And yes, she enjoyed that, too. Along with the side show, her neighbor made a habit of washing his car and checking the mail and inviting friends over. He appeared to be a popular guy. From a different school, she knew, because there weren’t many guys at the Beacon Hills Prep—an all girls’ school her parents thought kept up with Allison’s keen intellect.

She wasn’t a genius though, and her grades very much reflected that, but she figured it was better this way. She was new to Beacon Hills and she considered this a fresh start. No more drama, no more fighting, no more guys…

Her doorbell rang.

Allison jumped up, her long limbs nearly bringing down the kitchen chair she sat in as she rushed to the door. The dark haired girl hadn’t even bothered looking out the window to check who it was, instead yanking the door open and immediately regretting it.

It was him.

The neighbor.

The _hot_ neighbor. And he brought friends, a tall blond, a lanky brunette with a sprinkling of moles, and a burly teen with dark skin. They were all different versions of the word attractive, and Allison became excruciatingly aware of the fact that she was totally dressed in a midriff tank top and baggy sweats. _Ugh._ She probably looked awful! Allison pressed her lips together, not knowing what else to do.

“Um… hello.” Her neighbor, who appeared to be the front man of the four, smiled, his brown eyes crinkling in a way that made Allison’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he greeted. And an awkward silence ensued. Maybe because Allison hadn’t exactly been trained in the art of dealing with attractive men. Finally, deliverance came.

“Wow,” the tall blonde mused, “you didn’t tell us your neighbor was a model.” Or maybe this wasn’t deliverance. Allison blushed at the flirtatious statement and felt one of her stupid, nervous smiles weaseling its way onto her face.

“I’m not a model,” Allison said, though she wanted to add that the four in front of her certainly could pass off as such. Especially the blonde, with his chiseled jaw and whatnot. Despite that, her eyes lingered on her neighbor’s, or rather his lingered on hers…

Just her eyes, too, not trailing a little like his friend.

“So… what can I help you guys with?” Allison finally asked. “Or did you want a cup of sugar?” Her neighbor smiled at her joke and Allison decided she really loved his smile. Like _really_ loved his smile.

“Actually, I noticed you moved in here a few weeks ago, but I’ve never actually met you and I figured it’d be cool if we hung out or something…” Her neighbor rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, if you want to, I didn’t mean to impose. And my name’s Scott, by the way. McCall. Scott.” He took a breath. “Scott McCall.”

Allison smiled, finding his fumbling for words oddly cute.

“Don’t mind him,” the blonde interjected, “Scott’s just really nervous about finally meeting you. We practically had to drag him out here to force him to introduce himself.” The burly teen laughed at his friend’s joke while Scott blushed and the boy with the moles narrowed his eyes.

“Really, Isaac? Does the Bro Code exist to you _at all_?”

“What? We have to explain to this girl that Scott’s nervous or she’ll think he’s weird and avoid him. It isn’t like a girl like that wants to waste time on people she doesn’t like.” Allison furrowed her brows in confusion.

“A girl like that also doesn’t like when guys are lame, which you’ve tried to make Scott out to be. Don’t think I don’t see through your little ruse, I know you just want her for yourself, Scarf Boy.” Isaac looked down at his scarf, a flash of insecurity in his blue eyes. “Besides, a girl like that--”

“A girl like this has ears, you know.” Isaac and his friend (enemy?) stopped arguing when they realized they had an audience. Three, to be exact.

“Real smooth, guys,” the burly one murmured, shaking his head slightly.

“It’s okay,” Allison said, “really.” She turned her smile to Scott. “I didn’t know you were nervous to meet me. I mean, I’m just me. Allison Argent who goes to private school. I’m not like, some kind of bitch.” She hesitated. “Oh, uh, I mean, I don’t think I am.” Allison preceded to think about the last three months of her life and just what kind of person she was.

“Anyway,” the lanky boy pushed in front of Scott. “Allison, this is my best friend, and he’s been watching you like for a while. Not like creepy watching but like Edward Cullen.” Scott blanched.

“ _Dude_!” His friend waved off Scott’s worry and hurried along with his spiel.

“What I mean is, Scott really likes you and it’d be really cool if you’d talk to him and smile at him and do all of those cute little Allison things you do that he keeps telling my about at, like, one o’clock in the morning.” And with a nod, the young man stalked off.

“ _Stiles_!” Scott called after him in anger, but the pale teen had already made it to Scott’s lawn, followed by Isaac and the quieter teen. “Isaac! Boyd! Guys!” But it was too late. Scott’s friends had ditched him.

Allison watched silently as the seven stages of denial all played out on Scott’s face before the teen turned back to her, his body stiff and his lips pursed together. This was nothing like the confident swagger she’d grown used to. Scott must’ve assumed she was really stuck up or something, so the girl resolved to break the ice between them.

“’Cute little Allison things’?” The girl arched a brow. “What cute little Allison things do I do?” Scott smiled. Nervously, of course.

“I, uh, I mean, you do your homework on your porch. And sometimes you leave your window open when you dance around your room.” She knew someone had seen her jamming out to Beyonce!

“Oh my gosh, you saw that? Allison asked, blushing.

“Yeah. It was cute. Cool, I mean, cool.” Scott forced a grin.

“Well… you have cute little Scott things of your own.”

“I do?” He looked genuinely surprised at this. Allison nodded.

“Yeah, you do. My favorite is the way you walk. Which, you know, you can do a lot of at the park. If you wanna go with me later.” Scott blinked.

“Did you just ask me out?”

“You’re cute, I’m cute, why not?” Scott laughed at Allison’s joke. Allison liked his laugh.

“I’d love to go to the park with you, Allison.” And after exchanging some information, the two decided to meet up at the street corner in two hours. Before Scott could make it back to his house, Allison leaned out of her doorframe.

“Scott!” He turned, eyebrows raised and eyes lit at the sight of the long girl, hair flowing and smile bright. “Don’t bring your friends this time. I want to talk to you today. Just you.”


	5. Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scott first saw her, it was like the sun had burst through the clouds.

When Scott first saw her, it was like the sun had burst through the clouds.

Seriously.

He’d been struggling to keep track of the various books and spirals in his hands, muttering how much easier his life would’ve been had he decided to become a vet rather than a detective (or detectives assistant, but he pretended that he and Stiles were both on the same level of intelligence when it came to criminal investigation). His car was just outside of the library, and Scott hoped and prayed that he made it. His struggles had been in vain, as the young, stressed man could feel things slipping from their snug position between his elbow and his ribcage.

“ _No_ ,” Scott had just started protesting when he heard the door to the library swing open, the gust of wind causing a loose leaf of paper that had been jutting out of one of the spirals pressed to Scott’s chest to tickle his nose. Curious (or maybe desperate to call for help), Scott looked up. And then he blinked. Blinked again. Gaped.

The spiral successfully escaped its prison of Scott’s hold. Scott didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at what appeared to be an angel descending upon earth.

...Maybe that’d been an exaggeration. But then, Scott wasn’t too sure.

She was… well, she was _beautiful_. But not just that. She entered the library foyer with a certain elegance Scott could hardly describe, her movements seeming to play in slow motion as she walked, head lifted high, eyes hidden behind an opaque shade of sunglasses, face contoured as the sunlight hit her back in just the right angle…

Wow. _Wow._ Wait. Staring at someone like a fish out of water was not an appropriate reaction. Scott snapped his jaw shut and just like that, the world continued on at regular speed, and the angel was rushing towards him.

“Oh my God,” the woman cried, snatching up the fallen spiral. “How did they let you walk out carrying all of this?” Scott opened his mouth, closed it. Words didn’t sprout in his mind, and he  found himself wishing he had Jackson’s confidence and ability to speak with pretty women (but, at the same time, was glad he didn’t have Jackson’s confidence and inability to _keep_ pretty women).

“Here,” the woman said, dislodging a few more items from Scott’s arm. His shoulders were grateful. The weight hadn’t been all that much for him, but having to hold it all and stretch his arms to maximum capacity? Yeah, that had been brutal on his joints.

Scott flashed the woman a grateful smile, then remembered it was somewhat customary to thank people who did nice things for them.

“I, uh, thank you.” The woman merely smiled as she took a step back.

“Where are we going with this load?” she asked lightly, and Scott lead her to his car, internally thanking God that he’d borrowed Jackson’s instead of Stiles’s rundown, old jeep. The woman helped him dump the various items into the backseat, graciously ignoring the moment when the two had accidently brushed against each other (Scott on the other hand, had felt that minute graze of skin like he’d been jolted by electricity).

After their work was good and done with, the woman smiled.

“Well, that was much easier, wasn’t it?” she asked. Scott laughed at the joke, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he said, “it was.” They stood for a second, staring at one another. Scott wondered what the woman’s eyes looked like beneath her shades. Another moment passed before the woman started moving a hand towards her face—revealing her eyes?—when:

“ _Allison_!” They both turned to see a tall, blonde male jogging towards the two. Scott felt his stomach twist as the modelesque man approached and wrapped his arms around the woman (Allison) without hesitation.

“Isaac!” Allison cried, as the hug had somewhat dislodged the sunglasses from her face. Scott caught a glimpse of her eyes. Brown. Warm. Allison straightened her sunglasses and looked to Scott, an almost bashful smile on her face. Then, she turned back to Isaac, nearly melting in his side as the blond turned her away from Scott and back towards the library. “Isaac,” she said as she walked away, “this guy here was struggling with so much stuff, you wouldn’t believe the people inside let him out.”

“You helped him, didn’t you?”

“Of course!”

“That’s why I love you, Ally. You’ve got a heart of gold.” Scott didn’t listen to anymore. Turned on his heel and trudged into his car, without looking back.

(He left in such a hurry, he missed it when Allison rushed back to ask his name. Missed the look of disappointment that hit her like a tidal wave. Missed her friend—best friend—Isaac strolling up to her and consoling her upon the missed opportunity.)

Life goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON THIS STORY. I HAVE NOT.  
> I just don't have time like I used to. But, in honor of the fact that I'll have a week off of school, I decided to post this chapter. And I see a lot of updates in the near future ;) Thank you for your patience!! Feel free to send in AUs.


	6. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want this to be the best blind date in the history of blind dates.” Stiles lips quirked.  
> “Really, Lydia? Because I’m pretty sure that feat isn’t all that fantastic.”

“C’mon, Allison.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Unlikely.”

“For me?” Allison hesitated for a moment, looking over at Lydia’s pleading face. Despite being twenty five, the young woman had quite the childlike charm to her when she wanted to. Allison groaned inwardly as she rolled her eyes as much as she dared while driving.

“Fine,” she muttered, “ _fine._ I’ll do it.”

*

“She’ll do it?” Scott stared incredulously at Stiles. “Really?” A part of him was flattered; someone agreed to a blind date without even meeting him. Or maybe that fluttering feeling in his chest was _concern_ over the fact that the mystery girl—Allison, Stiles had told him. Stiles was about the opposite, bouncing in place as the two walked around their neighborhood (or collection of apartments), the warm autumn breeze causing his baggy over shirt to ripple against his slight frame.

“Yep, she said yes, Scotty.” Stiles beamed. “Can you believe it?” A rhetorical question, one Scott decided to answer anyway.

“No,” he said. “I actually can’t believe it at all. You sure she said yes?”

“Man, I told you. My girl, Lyds, can convince anyone of anything.” Scott arched an eyebrow.

“‘Lyds’?”

“Yeah,” Stiles laughed, tugging at his collar. “Don’t tell her I called her that. She _hates_ that nickname.” Noted.

*

The date was to take place at Russo’s, a quaint little Italian restaurant within walking distance of Scott’s apartment. Stiles had originally planned to pick the girls up, but caved when Lydia insisted that Allison needed to make a good entrance so as to enhance the beauty of Scott and Allison’s first meeting.

“What does that even mean?” Stiles had hissed into the phone receiver. Lydia scoffed on her end.

“I want this to be the best blind date in the history of blind dates.” Stiles lips quirked.

“Really, Lydia? Because I’m pretty sure that feat isn’t all that fantastic.”

“ _Stiles_.” Her exasperation was palpable, even through the phone line. “Stiles,” Lydia tried again, her voice lower and less vexed, “You and I know how mopey our best friends have been since… well, you know. Scott’s Erica and Allison’s Isaac.” Stiles sobered at the name drops.

He still didn’t know the full story on Allison and Isaac, but he sure knew what had gone down between Scott and Erica. Erica Reyes, beautiful blonde Erica Reyes, had more or less been the demon to Scott’s angel. Said in the lightest way possible, since Stiles and Erica were still on decent terms. Ish.

Erica had dated Scott more out of curiosity than anything else, and initially the two appeared to work, Scott’s naturally sunny disposition providing the stability and warmth necessary to soften Erica’s more prickly qualities. However, their relationship soon became awkward and forced due to them being _too_ opposite.

That, and Erica had unintentionally fallen for the enigmatic Vernon Boyd, but neither Scott nor Stiles held that against her, as the girl had genuinely tried to bury her emotions for Scott’s sake. Their breakup had been mutual, though, and Scott pretended he was wounded by it. Stiles knew the truth, though, that Scott missed Erica, if not solely for their old friendship.

So, yeah, meeting a new girl would be beneficial.

“Okay,” Stiles conceded. “Do your grand entrance thingy.” He could practically hear Lydia preening over the receiver.

“Thanks, Babe.” And that was that.

So Scott and Stiles stood outside Russo’s, both dressed for a nice dinner and looking for all the world like two lost children.

“When did she say they’d be here?” Scott asked.

“Uh, six, I think.” It was a quarter passed. “I’m, um, gonna go make sure our table’s reserved. Wait out here?” And Stiles disappeared into the restaurant. Leaving Scott alone. Ugh.

Scott spent his time rocking back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet. He eyed the incoming cars, curiously wondering if any of them held Lydia and his mystery date, Allison. None of them did. Sigh. Maybe Allison had changed her mind and Lydia was frantically searching for an alternative. Would she do that? Did Scott look so desperate he couldn’t even find a date for himself?

“McCall!” His thoughts were put to rest at the familiar voice. Lydia Martin, Stiles’s most recent (and possible last, if the way he stared at her was any indication) girlfriend. She really was a beautiful woman, with thick curls of red – _Strawberry blonde,_ Stiles’s voice penetrated Scott’s thoughts—hair and big, green eyes. As per usual, she was dressed to impress with shockingly tall heels and a dress Scott was sure cost more than the rent he and Stiles paid on their joint apartment. For a month.

But Scott’s eyes didn’t linger on Lydia. For one thing, that was Stiles’s girl. The other reason, however, was because walking behind Lydia, was a brown haired woman who nearly took Scott’s breath away. She was beautiful, but what really got him was the smile on her face as she approached Scott, the way she confidently stuck out her hand.

“Hey,” she greeted, “you must be Scott. I’m Allison Argent.” Scott took her hand.

“Scott McCall.” Hesitation. “But… you knew that.” Allison’s smile grew at the fumble whilst Scott felt his ears burn.

“So,” Lydia piped up, “where’s our table?”

The trio headed indoors to find Stiles loyally guarding a booth by the window. As soon as she saw him, Lydia made a bee line for Stiles, easily sliding under his already raised arm. Allison and Scott shared a glance, before taking a seat. Scott sat by the window.

“Wow,” Stiles mused as he smiled at Allison. “So you’re the infamous Allison Argent Lydia always tells me about?”

“My best friend,” Lydia added, and she and Allison shared a fist bump. Scott’s brows raised.

“Did you guys just… fist bump?” Because that was completely unexpected.

“Yes,” Allison answered, firmly. “Is that a problem? Did you want one, too?” And she lifted her fist up to Scott. Scott stared at her, then her hand. Finally, he gingerly tapped his knuckles against her own. “See? That’s not so bad.”

“I didn’t think it would be,” Scott admitted. “I just… Lydia doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”

“Just Lydia?” Allison asked.

“Well, I don’t really know you. I don’t want to make any assumptions about you.” This appeared to please Allison.

“That’s a first,” she murmured, messing with the water glass that had been placed on the table as the two conversed. “All the guys I’ve known have been all too quick to assume things about me. They think I’m just some pretty girly girl.”

 Scott was vaguely aware of the fact that Stiles and Lydia were very much eavesdropping on his and Allison’s conversations, very unsubtly staring over the tops of their menus with wide, curious eyes. Some reason, this didn’t bother him all that much as he returned his attention to the girl in front of him. Truth be told, she did kind of look like a girly girl. Kind of.

She was pretty, as she’d stated, and had done her hair and makeup quite well (not that Scott knew much about those things). Her dress was modestly cut in regards to how much chest it showed (or how much chest it _didn’t_ show), but was just short enough that, had Scott wanted to, he could get a very good look at her mile-long-legs.

Her boots, black and a little edgy, definitely turned the ‘pretty girl persona’ on it’s head. Made Scott a little curious.

“What kind of girl are you?” he asked, leaning a little on his elbow as he stared into Allison’s brown eyes. She shrugged her shoulders as she stared up at him, her lips pressed into a small smile that was actually incredibly cute.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty tough. I mean… I bet I could beat you in a fight.” Bold.

“You sure about that?” Scott asked, a swell of confidence surging through him.

“Scott was the best lacrosse player back in our hometown,” Stiles clarified. “And he has, like, an unusually persistent type of muscle that never goes away. In essence, he might be able to--” The words hadn’t even left his mouth before Allison swiped at Scott’s elbow, sending him face first into the table as she twisted his arm up—not enough to be painful, but enough to hold him still.

Scott was pretty sure he was in love at that point.

“Wow,” Stiles mused, “ _wow._ Lydia, I’m breaking up with you. I want a ninja wife like Allison.”

“Shut up, Stilinski.”

“Nope. I’ve had these fantasies since I was a little, impressionable boy.”

“You still are a little, impressionable boy.” As the two bantered (and ultimately reconciled, with a lot of “ _I’m sorry it was a_ joke _”_ from Stiles’s side and eye rolls from Lydia’s), Scott stared up at the girl who had him pinned down. She was smiling down at him, looking for all the world like a preening peacock. Scott had to admit, that was a good look on Allison.

“So… you can actually fight?”

“I told you I was tough.”

“You didn’t say you were a ninja.” Allison laughed, releasing Scott from her hold. He straightened, rolling his shoulders as he appraised his date in a new light. “My dad put me in a bunch of self defense classes,” Allison supplied without provocation, almost in a rambling manner. “He’s a weapons dealer for police, and he kind of knows how dangerous the world can be, so he wanted me to be able to protect myself. I know it’s kind of weird, but—”

“Hey.” Scott took Allison’s hand. He was surprised how natural the gesture felt. “It’s not weird that you can protect yourself. That just makes you… tough.” Allison dropped her gaze and smiled, and for the second time that night, Scott McCall was pretty sure he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue sending AU requests, the last one got me going in ways I can't describe!! Thanks for reading, hope this doesn't dissapoint!!


	7. Babysitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scott thinks Derek's daughter is a demon and Allison laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now I have limited wifi access so limited posting opportunities so enjoy this short random clip yes? yes.

All through the house, one could hear the blood curdling shrieks of a baby.

It's wails nearly shook the walls. Actually, Scott was one hundred percent certain that the walls did shake, as he heard the sounds of glass shattering against the hardfloor. No doubt the picture frames lining the baby's room had all slid off the wall. Gosh. Of course the one night Derek asked him to look after his kid, the baby went wild.

Groaning sounded beside Scott. Allison. He knew he probably shouldn't have invited her over while Derek was away, but Scott figured he needed extra assurance that the baby would be alright. After all, if someone decided to shoot a wolfsbane bomb through the window, Scott would be incapacitated and defensless. He needed Allison's help, or at least that's what he told himself was the reason he dragged her along.

A particularly high pitched shriek burst Scott's thought bubble, bringing him back to the present situation. The crying Hale baby. "Scott," Allison moaned, shifting in the couch, "Scott, you have to do something." "I, uh, right." He hopped up unto his feet, momentarily bouncing from foot to foot. Derek really needed to add some carpet in his loft. The floor was freezing. Allison giggled at Scott's ineptitude. Scott ignored her, rushing over to the crib.

There rested a very angry baby, her little fists swinging back and forth in what could only be described as absolute fury. When she saw Scott peering down at her, the baby-- named Talia-- immediatley narrowed her brown eyes. A shiver traveled down Scott's spine, and it had nothing to do with the floor. The girl was definitley Derek's daughter.

"Scott," Allison's voice neared him, "why don't you pick her up?"

"Um..." Scott reached down shaking arms. Talia growled at him and sunk her fangs into his arm. Scott yelped and jumped back. "She bit me!" Talia continued thrashing in her crib, the sound of her claws tearing through cloth immistakable. Allison watched in silence as Scott continued trying to placate the furious child, her brows furrowed in worry while her mouth was quirked in half a smile. "Allison! Don't just watch, help me," Scott begged. "Please!"

"I don't know what you expect me to do," Allison said. Accidently let a laugh slip.

"This isn't funny," Scott moaned, though he had to admit he liked hearing Allison laugh and could hardly keep his own smile off of his face. "Derek's daughter might be evil. You think she got that from Peter?" Allison rolled her eyes.

"Leave Talia alone," she chastised, bumping passed Scott to peer down at the baby. When Talia caught sight of Allison, her cries morphed into a much quieter moaning. "See? She's just a little upset," Allison mused. "Aren't you, pretty baby?" She lifted Talia out with a sure grip. Talia didn't struggle. Scott blinked at the sight of Allison easily handling the baby.

He knew better than to write it off as her being a woman; he'd seen Talia try biting Lydia and Malia and even Kira. But now, the baby rested calmly in Allison's arms, staring up as the huntress hummed a soft lullaby as she rocked her back and forth. Then, Talia's eyes stopped glowing, started closing... Allison couldn't stop staring at the beautiful baby, a smile on her face. She was so absorbed in what she was doing, she didn't even notice Scott was starting at her, jaw slack. When she looked up, he was still staring.

"...What?" Allison asked, shifting her weight.

"It's just... you'd make a great mom." Allison's smile was one of uncertainty and confusion. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You always look out for people. You're just so kind and beautiful, I guess it makes sense for Talia to like you." Allison blinked.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Well. Scott fought the blush in his cheeks, tried maintaining a straight face.

"I mean, I always have. I've told you that before, haven't I?" Allison figured he probably had. Still, hearing it again when they weren't together... it meant something. More. Scott stared at her. She stared back. He leaned forward, not letting his gaze wander from anywhere but Allison's eyes, and then-- "Ow!" He jumped back. Apparently, Talia hadn't been as asleep as he'd thought as she was staring up at him, a piece of his shirt in her mouth. There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Yeah.

She was definitley a Hale.


	8. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kira is sick of Scott's heroics and Scott vents to Allison.

Kira Yukimura stormed into the apartment, tossing her well-known katana onto the nearest couch as she went. Her long dark hair was twisted up into a high bun, though various loose strands swung into her bruised face. There was smudges of blood on her cheeks, too, but it wasn’t _her_ blood. It belonged to… to _him_.

Said him came into the apartment a few seconds after her, plodding, holding a rag to his lower abdomen. Kira’s eyes flashed a bright orange as she glared at the bloodied rag, then lifted her grimace to stare at the person she was furious at. Scott Mc-Freaking-Call, known by civilians as The Alpha, and known to her as her loving amazing boyfriend… who she really wanted to punch in the face.

“You’re mad at me.” He wasn’t all that perceptive, usually, but Kira knew that when Scott had his empathy going, he could easily read anyone. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to do that at the moment, but she was too angry to resist responding.

“I wonder why,” she bit as she moved to the kitchen, opening their freezer to toss him a bag of peas. Scott caught them without even looking, the benefits of having heightened senses. Kira watched as he placed the bag on his head with his free hand. Her heart trembled when she saw him wince in pain. Her anger multiplied. “You can’t keep _doing_ this, Scott.” Scott looked to her, eyes wide.

“What do you mean?” And that was really the last straw. Kira exploded, feeling the electricity in the air spike, charging her up enough so that the parts of her hair unbound went flying up in the air.

“Doing _this_!” Kira shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Scott’s wound. No doubt, it was already healing, as she could hardly smell the fresh blood in the air any more, only the tangy, metallic blood that was already covering the both of them.

“Kira,” Scott began, voice as steady as usual. “The Dark Wolf was attacking you. He would’ve hurt you if I hadn’t got in the way.” He said it like it was a good thing. The first few times, Kira definitely did enjoy being ‘saved’ by Scott. She could heal, yeah, but not as quickly or as efficiently as Scott of the other mutants they typically ran with. But Kira was sick of his concern, sick of his recklessness, sick of his altruism…

Sick of seeing Scott get himself hurt.

“I can take care of myself, Scott,” Kira told him, and hated how her voice strained on the words. “We _all_ can.”

“I’m the leader,” Scott said matter-of-factly. “It’s my job to make sure you guys are safe.”

“No, it’s _our_ job to make sure the _city_ is safe. You’re not the only super hero around here, Scott, and you’re definitely not the only one who looks out for other people.”

“I never said that,” Scott was quick to say, dropping the bag of peas.

“I know,” Kira muttered, turning away from him. “But you act like your life doesn’t matter and I hate to see you like that.” Scott straightened, placing the bloody rag on the counter.

“I don’t act like my life doesn’t matter.” Kira threw her hands up in the air.

“Yes you _do_!” She snapped. “You’ve been acting like this for months and I can’t take it! You just run around, paying more attention to other people’s safety than your own. You dove in front of that bullet meant for Isaac. Took a shock for Boyd even though you knew you might not have healed. Injected yourself with poison when Darach had kidnapped Stiles instead of letting Lydia try and find him.” With each example, Kira got more and more frustrated as she remembered Scott’s negligence for his own life.

“I _wanted_ to help them,” Scott countered. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because you don’t care about yourself, Scott! You’ve been borderline suicidal ever since Allison—” Kira slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she’d stepped over the boundary all too late. At the look on Scott’s face, the haunted, tortured look, she immediately rushed towards him, arms open. “Oh my God, Scott, I’m an idiot, I—”

But Scott was already leaving.

*

Allison wasn’t far from his apartment, only about thirty minutes, which typically flew by quite quickly whenever he went to see her. Scott was still wearing his black-and-red uniform, the only item missing being his eye mask. The people he passed didn’t look twice at him. He’d came through this area enough time that his presence wasn’t strange at all.

When he reached his destination, he sat down, wrapping his arms around his legs and placing his forehead on his knees. He took a breath. Then he looked up, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hi, Allison.” There was no response. “I… I know you probably don’t want to see me. Not since last time I blew up at you…. I’m, uh, sorry about that.” Silence was his answer. Scott figured he deserved that. “Um… Kira and I got in a fight again. She thinks I’m being reckless, or something.” Scott dug the heel of his boot into the ground, puckered his lips as he thought over the anger and pain that had lined Kira’s face earlier that night.

“Yeah,” he muttered after a while. “She might be right on that one. Of course, _you’d_ say she _is_ right. The girlfriend _is_ always right, huh?” Scott scratched at his arm. “I just… I know I should listen to her. I know that I’m not Super Man and I can’t save everyone. But I still have to try because…” Scott didn’t know how to finish that sentence, or maybe he felt the thick lump in his throat, the lump that signified he was close to tears.

“I can’t… I can’t do this without you, Allison,” Scott finally admitted, as loudly as he dared. “This whole hero thing… you were the main reason I got into that. The first time I saved you…” He thought about that, the time he’d first picked up the moniker _The Alpha_. He’d been nameless back then, a poor confused high school kid who’d gotten a lot more power than he probably should’ve after a freak accident at Hale Labs.

His best friend, Stiles, had tried helping him gain control, as did the grudging nephew of the man who’d caused all of Scott’s problems, but Scott knew deep down that it was ultimately Allison who’d saved him. She’d been a pretty normal girl back then, though that wasn’t really true. Allison was always extraordinary. It was why Scott was so in love with her. Even now, that he spoke to her and got no response.

He’d saved Allison back then, when the crazed Peter Hale (Dark Wolf, now) had tried killing her, and it was through the experience that Scott realized the beauty of helping others. That and Allison had all but forced him into it, convinced he could use his powers for good. She became a crucial help, Allison did, as she trained and became a force to be reckoned with, and more importantly someone who didn’t need saving.

He supposed that was the real reason why issues started rising between them. Scott needed to protect people and Allison hated being protected. But they were working through it, probably could’ve made it through…

Scott’s phone vibrated. He glanced down at the screen, not at all surprised to see Stiles had texted him a number of times.

_Bro, where r u?_

_K is freaking out, convinced she sent u off the deep end._

_And, uh, there’s a situation in the city. Like a monster sized one. Txt back._

Scott sighed. He was needed again. He hopped to his feet, brushing the grass off of his uniform.

“I’ll see you later, Allison,” he whispered to her gravestone. Hesitated. “I miss you. I love you.” He walked away then, and he could swear he almost heard her say it back.


End file.
